Friday, January 10, 2025

A World Without Governments? Anarchism Explained



From PBS
January 2, 2025
Episode 7 | 11m 41sVideo has Closed Captions | CC

The word anarchy is synonymous with chaos, but what does it mean to political theorists? In this episode of Crash Course Political Theory, we explore the theories and practices of anarchism.

Aired 01/02/2025 | Rating NR

Watch here: https://www.pbs.org/video/a-world-without-governments-anarchism-explain…

TRANSCRIPT

This is what anarchism looks like.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, Italians gathered across their balconies to sing, and Iranians performed poetry on theirs.

Groups of people self-organized to pick up medicines and deliver groceries, and people taught free classes online.

Around the world, mutual aid groups sprang up to raise emergency funds and support their communities with all kinds of direct services.

All of that was a form of political anarchism.

Even the singing Italians.

Hi!

I'm Ellie Anderson and this is Crash Course Political Theory.

[THEME MUSIC] Twentieth-century feminist revolutionary Emma Goldman didn’t want to define anarchism for us, because she said anarchism is all about thinking for yourself.

But she threw us a bone.

She described anarchy as “The philosophy of a new social order based on liberty unrestricted by man-made law.” And also, crucially, “the theory that all forms of government rest on violence, and are therefore wrong and harmful, as well as unnecessary.” Most of the political theories we’ve talked about in this series assume that societies require a central authority to keep the peace, and that without one, everything would collapse.

Remember Hobbes?

He thought life without government would be, quote, “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” Which is also how I describe myself when I haven't had enough coffee.

But anarchists sort of turn that on its head.

They believe that governments, with their hierarchies and tanks, are inherently tyrannical.

And humans are naturally cooperative, rather than naturally violent or competitive.

Still, it’s hard for me to imagine life without governments.

I mean, where else are nerds like me supposed to spend their prom nights if not their local public libraries?

But seriously, apart from some small-scale experiments by groups like the Paris Commune or the Zapatistas in Mexico, we can literally only imagine it.

Because it’s not exactly easy to poof governments away for the sake of experiment.

Except in rare moments, like after natural disasters or during a pandemic, when a bunch of our systems fall apart.

Then, writers like Rebecca Solnit argue, we can see a glimpse through the new forms of organizing that emerge to meet people’s needs without government oversight.

Anarchists point out that people have organized themselves since long before states existed.

Of the roughly three hundred thousand years that modern humans have been doing their thing, state-level societies have been around for only five thousand of those years.

And we still naturally organize ourselves, even when we’re not in crisis.

According to anthropologist David Graeber, daily life is full of anarchy: we wait in line to board the bus, even if the police aren’t there to make us, and we voluntarily join organizations, like sports teams and book clubs.

But it makes me curious.

If we’ve always naturally organized ourselves, then why do states exist?

As it turns out, for anarchists, it all goes back to private property.

Once we opened that can of worms, and land and resources no longer belonged to everyone like they did in many hunter-gatherer societies, property owners wanted to hang on to their wealth.

So, in the anarchist worldview, the state doesn’t keep everyone safe from chaos —it just keeps the rich, rich.

Or, in the words of ​​Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, a French journalist whose work became the basis of anarchist theory in the mid-nineteenth century, ”property is theft.” A fire catchphrase.

Almost as good as the famous line from the Godfather: “when you’re here, you’re family.” Or, wait, I think that’s something else…?

Anyway, all property, Proudhon believed, represents the labor of many, claimed by a single owner.

That’s because the value of a factory isn’t just created by the person who owns it – it’s also created by those who built it and those who work there.

Proudhon said that property should be owned by everyone who gives it value; otherwise there can’t be equality.

If your Marx senses are tingling, that’s because anarchism is also deeply influenced by socialism.

Both theories agree that economic exploitation hinders freedom.

But Marxists believe we can create a government that protects its people from this exploitation by giving power to the workers.

Anarchists, on the other hand, believe that it’s impossible to have any form of centralizing power without economic exploitation.

So, the ideas of Proudhon and others would develop into classical anarchism, which calls to abolish the state and replace it with free associations of workers.

They would trade goods and services, and cooperate with other regions through a union of self-governing communities.

A lot like those mutual aid groups that popped up during the pandemic.

Proudhon’s ideas were picked up by Mikhail Bakunin, who took things a couple steps further, opposing hierarchies of all kinds.

He wanted no bosses, no landlords, no kings, and no library late fees.

OK, that last one was just me.

And he railed against the oppression not just of workers but also of women and children, believing that all people who labored should benefit from that labor.

He argued for individual workers to organize themselves into groups that share resources and decision-making power, a concept known as collectivism.

And he wanted to challenge the state directly —through violent revolution, if it came to that —which, it did.

He brought his ideas right to the barricades of the 1848 revolutions that were erupting across Europe.

Meanwhile, the Russian aristocrat and geographer Peter Kropotkin had a slightly different take.

He was swayed to anarchism after visiting a group of self-governing Swiss watchmakers.

Now that’s my kind of vacation.

Kropotkin built on Bakunin’s idea of collectivism.

But where Bakunin thought “each according to his labor,” Kropotkin thought, “each according to his need.” Which was basically a way of saying, you don’t have to prove you’re worthy of having your needs met.

He imagined a society run kind of like a public library —I know, I know, just wait it gets better.

He says: “The librarian does not ask what services you have rendered to society before giving you the book, and he comes to your assistance if you do not know how to manage the catalogue.” I think we can all agree that no matter what political system we’re talking about, it really should be run by librarians.

Anyway, this vision is called anarchist communism – it’s a lot like communism but without a centralized state, not even a centralized state made of workers.

These days, there’s still tons of debate over anarchism.

One of the main critiques is, sure, a stateless society sounds cool in theory, but how could it exist in reality?

It’s impractical!

And folks have all sorts of ways of responding to this.

Like, OG anarchist influencer Emma Goldman, who we mentioned at the start, said that what’s really impractical is clinging to a bad system and expecting different results.

The only logical response to a problem, she argued, is to try something new.

We saw a real-life attempt at something new in the Occupy movement, which sprang up in September 2011 in New York City, and eventually spread to more than a hundred US cities and 25 other countries.

Their rallying cry was: “We are the ninety-nine percent.” It was a response to extreme wealth disparities, and the fact that super-wealthy people — the one percent — hold so much political power.

Thousands of protesters marched on Wall Street, the financial capital of the country, and then built a live-in community in Zuccotti Park.

They cooked and cleaned and loaned out books, and every evening they formed a general assembly to talk about the future and propose new ideas.

But despite all the steam, the encampment fizzled out in just fifty-nine days, and the media moment was all but over.

They wanted to do politics differently, so they never came up with a list of demands, and when they couldn’t reach consensus, they split into a bunch of different interest groups.

Which is itself a major critique of the theory of anarchy.

By design, no one litigates what counts as anarchy and what doesn’t.

And so, anarchist groups can sometimes lose political momentum.

This lack of central authority also explains why and how a wide swath of political perspectives have laid claim to anarchy.

Perspectives that are in some cases far removed from the ideas of political theorists.

Like, while a lot of anarchist theory grew out of Marxist arguments, some self-proclaimed anarchists have quite the opposite approach.

Take for example crypto-anarchists.

Their main goal is to use technology like cryptocurrency to get rid of the need for a state, allowing folks to exchange money without regulation by governments or banks.

So, hardcore anti-capitalists and pro-capitalist crypto-finance bros can all consider themselves anarchists, because resisting state authority can take a lot of different forms.

For example, one of the major divisions among anarchists concerns violence: whether it’s okay—or even necessary—to use it.

While anarchist beliefs can fuel movements like Occupy, they are not universally peaceful.

Goldman herself was involved in plotting the attempted assassination of steel magnate Henry Clay Frick.

When it came to revolution, she considered violence a justifiable means to an end.

And we’ve seen violent players aligning themselves with anarchism more recently as well.

For example, the Boogaloo movement has been known to capitalize on moments of political turmoil, like the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, to incite violence, often under the mantle of an imminent second civil war.

Their anti-government views led some far-right followers to get involved in the insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on January 6th, 2021.

Still, not all anarchists believe that the state must be destroyed to make way for anarchy; others argue that building anarchistic communities within existing states will reduce the government’s power over time.

And that doesn’t necessarily look like spray-painting tunnels or throwing hand grenades.

It looks more like talking to their neighbors and volunteering at community gardens and soup kitchens.

Providing services that governments might otherwise provide, or might be failing to provide.

In this way, anarchist thinkers such as Colin Ward have pointed out, there’s such a thing as everyday anarchism.

Meaning, life is full of people who help each other.

Which makes me wonder, what would the world look like if we nurtured these seeds of anarchism with simple, everyday gestures of mutual aid?

Although stateless societies have rarely existed in the modern world, anarchist ideas live on.

They exist in autonomous communities like the Zapatistas in Mexico, in social movements like the Arab Spring, and in pockets within communities, in response to both global disasters and local needs.

Meanwhile, anarchists continue to debate the best way forward: revolution, or book clubs, or both?

A perennial debate which Goldman reminds us, is central to anarchism itself — so that it can be ever-flexible to fit the needs of the time and place.

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Remembering Louise Michel: “Now I have only the revolution left”



PUNKED LOUISE

From Freedom News
Jan 9, 2025


120 years after her death, the hero of the Paris Commune continues to inspire
~ Maurice Schuhmann ~


In the Hôtel Oasis in Marseille, the French anarchist, feminist, and Communard Louise Michel passed away on January 9, 1905. By this time, she was one of the most prominent figures of contemporary anarchism and was often mentioned in the same breath as Peter Kropotkin and Errico Malatesta. Today, a commemorative plaque at the hotel honours her memory, and her grave in the cemetery of Levallois-Perret—a wealthy suburb of Paris—has become a pilgrimage site. At the time of her funeral, this suburb was still considered revolutionary ground.

Louise Michel was born twice—first as a person, on May 29, 1830, and again as a myth, in 1871, in the context of the Paris Commune. In the latter sense, she lives on to this day, albeit in a highly romanticised form that is often appropriated by various political movements. The memory of the “Red Virgin”, as she has been reverently called since the Commune, has been a political issue in France since the early 20th century.

In feminist and anarchist circles, engagement with her life often begins in 1871 or after her conversion to anarchism, a narrative that has posthumously cast her as a precursor to anarcha-feminism. This portrayal, however, does not do justice to her complexity—neither in a positive nor a negative sense. Overlooked in such accounts are, on the one hand, her early literary pursuits at the age of 20 and her correspondence with her idol, the French naturalist writer Victor Hugo, underscoring her legitimacy as an author. On the other hand, they often ignore the fact that, at the beginning of the Paris Commune uprising, she supported authoritarian socialism in the vein of Auguste Blanqui.

Street art from Paris

Born out of wedlock in Vroncourt-la-Côte (in the Grand Est region), Louise Michel developed an early interest in literature and established contact with Victor Hugo, who later dedicated a lengthy poem to her titled “Viro Major“. Her literary works include novellas (Le Grand Pan), novels (Les Plus Forts), and plays (Le Voile du bonheur). However, these are now rarely read or studied, while she herself has become a protagonist in modern French theatre. Her relationship with Victor Hugo has particularly provided material for such dramatisations.

She worked as a teacher, including at a school in Montmartre that still exists today, where a small memorial now honours its famous former staff member. For her, teaching was more than just a means to earn a living—she was deeply committed to the then-embryonic education of women and, in 1852, opened a free school (though this should not be confused with the concept of modern “free schools”). Unfortunately, little has been documented about her specific pedagogical approach, which remains largely unexplored. The educator Louise Michel is overshadowed by the myth of the revolutionary.

When the Paris Commune rose up in 1871 in the aftermath of the Franco-Prussian War, she was there from the start. Dressed in a male uniform, she led the Commune’s women’s battalion, which defended the area around Pigalle and Place de Clichy—later to become Paris’s red-light district, as is often pointed out with wry humour.

The Commune itself lasted a mere 71 days, yet it demonstrated what an alternative society could look like and how it might function. After the uprising was crushed, she—unlike many other Communards who were summarily shot—was sentenced by a court to exile in New Caledonia, then a French colony. Her seven-year exile began in 1873.

Telephone box depicting (only male) communards, Dieppe

Wearing a male uniform itself became a political issue. One of the charges brought against her during her trial was that by wearing men’s clothing, she engaged in cross-dressing. While this might seem a minor detail, in the context of a queer-feminist reading of her life, it is far from insignificant. She defended herself by claiming that she had worn the uniform for only one day.

Her transformation into an anarchist is typically dated to the time of her journey into exile. During this period, she reflected on the problem of power, particularly its corrupting effects. She concluded that no one is immune to the seduction of power once it is in their hands and inferred that the goal should not be to seize power but to fight against it.

“I saw our comrades in action, and gradually came to the conviction that even the most upright individuals, if they were to wield power, would come to resemble the villains they had once fought against. I saw the impossibility of reconciling freedom with any form of power”.

In the colony she also worked as a teacher, even teaching the local indigenous Kanak people. While many of the Communards harboured racist prejudices against the indigenous population, Louise Michel viewed them as equals and made no racial distinctions. However, some passages in her 1886 memoir about this time do contain racially connoted terms.

After an amnesty was granted to the former Communards, she returned to France on November 9, 1880, disembarking in the port city of Dieppe, Normandy where a large crowd was waiting to greet her. Later, in 1888, the French poet and fellow Communard Paul Verlaine dedicated a poem to her. In Dieppe itself, scattered traces remain of the Communard who once set foot there.

In 1886, her memoirs were published, becoming her most widely read work. In them, she vividly recounts the development and course of the Commune—a project whose legacy had itself become a bone of contention among socialist and anarchist theorists.

Mosaic in Dieppe

Her time in exile, that is, her years-long banishment, did not break Louise Michel—quite the opposite. In her memoirs, one finds the sentence that perhaps best captures her state of mind in this situation: “Now I have only the revolution left”. She thus transformed into a kind of professional revolutionary. Filled with enthusiasm, she immersed herself in the still-young anarchist movement in France, propagated its ideas, and corresponded with figures such as Élisée Reclus, Malatesta and Kropotkin, continuing to lecture and write propagandistic novellas, novels, and plays up until her death.

The French anarchist Sébastien Faure summarised her significance in the journal Le Libertaire in 1935: “The history of the Commune is rich with beautiful and noble figures. The one that has remained the most popular in this remarkable gallery is that of our dear Louise Michel”.

Photos: Yvonne Schwarz / Semiramis Photoart

 Germany

Is Wagenknecht’s nationalism the left’s new compass?

 NATIONALISM = FASCISM



Monday 6 January 2025, by
Jorge Costa


Recent elections [November 2024] in three German Länder have revealed the rise of a new political movement, the Bündnis Sahra Wagenknecht (Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance - BSW). The result of a split from the left-wing party Die Linke, the BSW claims to be countering the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) on the issue of migration policy. Does the BSW’s orientation represent a left-wing alternative or the crumbling of a certain left?

The invasion of Ukraine has opened the gates of hell. Evil has been trivialised beyond all interests. Wagenknecht’s political transformation was born out of war. More than a nostalgic throwback to the Berlin Wall, she is a product of our times: once again, in the midst of the chaos of war, there are leftists who deny themselves as such and opt for nationalism.

Abandonment of socialism as critique of a system of property ownership

There is not much left of the critique of capitalism if it does not raise the question of social ownership. There can be no left unless it contests the terrain conquered by neo-liberalism, and the first line of this contestation is the ownership of the commons. In the case of Wagenknecht’s party, the theme of ownership is central, but as the protectionism of the German industrial bourgeoisie: ‘So, a commonsense energy policy and industrial policy would start by considering the Mittelstand’s needs, in a way that encourages owners and their families to hang on rather than sell their companies to some financial investor.’ [1]

One of the BSW’s antiphons is to end sanctions against Russia in order to restore the flow of cheap gas, the so-called ‘commonsense energy policy’; we’ll come back to this later. But first of all: this vision of capitalist ownership is based on the abdication of the objective of building an autonomous working class policy: ‘What matters in Germany is the Mittelstand, the strong block of smaller firms that can position themselves against the big corporations. That opposition is as important as the polarity between capital and labour. You have to take it seriously in Germany. If you appeal to people purely on a class basis, you won’t get a response. But if you appeal to them as part of the wealth-creating sector of society, including owner-run companies, in contrast to the giant corporations—whose profits are funnelled to the shareholders and top executives, with almost nothing to the workers—that does hit home.’

With no link to the interests of the world of work, Sahra Wagenknecht assumes her party’s place as ‘the legitimate heirs of both the ‘domesticated capitalism’ of post-war conservatism and the social-democratic progressivism,’. More clearly, Sabine Zimmermann, party chairwoman in Saxony, explains that the BSW is ‘to the left of the CDU and to the right of the SPD’ (Jacobin, 20 September 2024).

Wagenknecht’s discourse could garner votes against a backdrop of a general shift to the right. But these votes are a confirmation of a turn to the right, because the programme that brings them together is an ideology of class conciliation and a capitulation on social ownership of the economy. Wagenknecht confines herself to proposing elements of tax justice and nationalist state regulation to preserve the property of the German industrial bourgeoisie.

A multipolar, compartmentalised world

Before it became a journalistic euphemism for neo-Nazi gangs, the term ‘nationalist’ was too often used as an insult to a left defending democratic sovereignty against capitalist globalisation or critical of authoritarian European federalism. This anathema implies that rejection of liberal diktats can only result from selfish atavism, not from any idea of solidarity and cooperation. Any self-respecting Left, in any European country, defends popular sovereignty against the injunctions of the transnationals of financial capital enshrined in the EU treaties. And there is nothing nationalist about that.

But anyone who wants to find traces of this left-wing popular sovereignty in Sahra Wagenknecht’s nationalist drift is mistaken. Instead, Wagenknecht is proposing an old-fashioned reactionary nationalism, rooted in class collaboration and taking up the themes that the right has managed to put on the agenda - energy, immigration and ‘morals’ - to reproduce versions of the far-right’s conservative and supremacist German programme.

It is on the issue of climate that this German nationalist supremacism expresses itself most clearly: ‘Destroying the domestic car industry by making electric cars obligatory just to meet some arbitrary emissions standards is not what we support. Nobody now alive will live to see average temperatures going down again, regardless of how much we reduce carbon emissions.’

This transparency is to be welcomed, but the conscious choice to condemn future generations in the name of the fossil economy is abject. Without being a climate denier (Wagenknecht acknowledges the existence of the climate crisis), the BSW assumes its supremacism: instead of rapidly reducing emissions in one of the richest and most industrialised countries in the world, it gives priority to mitigating the effects of the disaster for the German voter. ‘First equip homes for the elderly and hospitals and childcare centres with air conditioning at public expense, and make places close to rivers and streams safe against flooding.’ Chaos can spread throughout the world and nationalism will see our home (or our region, or Germany, or Europe) as the mirage of a fortress.

The rejection of internationalism

The slogan ‘for a multipolar world’ reflects the vision of a left that sees itself as part of the geopolitical chessboard. On this chessboard, the imperialist side and its adversaries face each other, and the left has the choice between being a white pawn (aligned with Western liberalism) or a black pawn, in which case it would adopt Putin’s rhetoric on the war in Ukraine, turn a blind eye to the institutional violence in Iran and Syria or treat Venezuelan electoral fraud as a necessary evil. Those nostalgic for the ‘multipolar world’ have not yet realised that, a year after the genocide, China and Russia are keeping their trade relations with Israel intact and putting no pressure on Netanyahu. But even such a contradiction does not seem to bother the campists.
Ms Wagenknecht’s stance on the war in Ukraine has made her a rising star in certain sectors of the left. Added to the anti-NATO tradition of the former East Germany is the energy agenda of German industry, obsessed with reopening the supply of cheap Russian gas.

Clearly, this cynicism in Wagenknecht’s position does not negate some of her criticism of the SPD-Green government. For many months, it maintained a relatively moderate stance in its support for Kiev against the invader. Remember that Germany was directly attacked by the Ukrainian side at the start of the war (with the destruction of Nord Stream, the Baltic Sea pipeline for Russian gas).

But last year, the SPD adopted the openly militaristic line of the Greens, began delivering offensive weapons to Zelensky (enabling him to hit targets outside its territory) and adopted an economic recovery strategy based on the arms industry. The apogee of this adherence to war policy was the admission of the future installation on German territory of US nuclear missiles capable of reaching Moscow. Berlin’s total embrace of the war agenda has strengthened Wagenknecht’s rhetoric (cheap gas for German factories is worth more than Ukraine’s right to self-determination) and enabled her to compete with the far right for an anti-war narrative with a nationalist profile.

But this position does not translate into consistent anti-militarism. On the contrary, the BSW’s immigration policy involves the militarisation of Europe’s southern border against foreign workers trying to reach the continent, the maintenance of concentration camps financed by European coffers, and the continuation of the death toll in the Mediterranean and the Sahara desert, among other things.

Resumption of the far right’s cultural wars

Exonerating oneself from explicit racism (on a good day) does not constitute a confrontation with the extreme right. Like the fascists, the BSW blames immigrants for the crisis in public services (‘shouldn’t overstrain collective resources’) and the pressure to drive down wages. As if the ‘housing shortage of 700,000 units’ or the deterioration of education and health services were not the result of disinvestment and liberal policies, but caused by Syrian refugees fleeing the war. Or as if Germany did not have unemployment at historically low levels, which indicates that migratory pressure is merely the employers’ alibi, responsible for the permanent pressure on wages.

To construct its perverse argument, the BSW uses the rhetoric of austerity and budgetary limits and does not propose to increase transfers for social housing or the recruitment of teachers and staff for migrant reception services.   On the contrary, BSW is fighting for the abolition of social benefits for the 100,000 or so migrants whose asylum applications have been rejected but who are protected by German law (mainly because they come from countries that offer no security of return). In other words, Wagenknecht wants to use marginalisation and misery as pressure for voluntary return to the chaos of countries like Syria or Afghanistan, but all she will achieve is to encourage people to flee to a clandestine existence in Germany, exploited and even more vulnerable to the networks, mafias and social resentment that fuel xenophobia.

Wagenknecht may well maintain, in the manner of the small print in contracts, guarantees to respond to accusations of xenophobia and nationalistic selfishness: support for countries of origin to retain their young people, with better access to capital investment, a fair trade regime, reimbursement of training costs for highly skilled immigrant workers. All this benevolent programme is undermined by her public rhetoric in favour of stricter restrictions on immigration policy.

Competing with the far right by adopting its rhetoric to confront the Islamophobic, anti-immigration electorate produces the same result: pitting the poorest against the most vulnerable. And in the end, as electoral studies show, the far right is gaining votes and its ideas are spreading to the rest of the political spectrum.

When Donald Trump won the 2016 election, there was no shortage of people who theorised that his victory reflected the left’s supposed focus on ‘mores’, the famous fractal causes that would alienate it from ‘normal people’. Many of these critics ended up joining Trump’s propaganda effort. Even then, it was the global far right that was putting its ‘culture wars’ against ‘wokism’ ‘at the centre of the political debate’. Faced with this onslaught, there were and still are those who, today, want the left to drop the banners of the fight against discrimination and the recognition of difference.

Since 2017, a lot of water has flowed into the mill of the far right and the feminist and LGBT movements have been among the broadest and most powerful in confronting the conservative agenda and silencing it, even if there is no shortage of those who still find ‘exaggeration’ and ‘excess’ in the expression of these social movements, still called ‘new’.

Conservative adaptation is therefore a constant temptation for the left in this period, but Sahra Wagenknecht is playing in a higher division of this league. Her policy is a complete conservative conversion, a term she uses in no uncertain terms. In her overview of the political centre, the feminist and LGBT rights agenda is simply erased: ‘we want to meet people where they are—not proselytize to them about things they reject’. Full stop.

When it comes to gender equality, Germany has ‘by and large overcome patriarchy’ and feminism is therefore a museum piece. It’s clear that the far right is not far from being the most popular party, but even neo-Nazi misogyny doesn’t seem to pose a risk to women. Once again, racism in disguise: it is ‘through a back door’ that the oppression of women, supposedly overcome, can ‘be reintroduced’ once it has supposedly been overcome.

On the issue of LGBTQI+ discrimination, Wagenknecht wants to impose silence: the people of East Germany ‘can’t deal with those debates about diversity, (…) But there is an exaggerated type of identity politics where you have to apologize if you speak out on a topic if you don’t have a migration background yourself, or you have to apologize because you’re straight.’

Capitalism continues to punish difference, while turning sexuality into a niche market, but instead of recognising the emancipatory potential of feminist and LGBTQI+ perspectives in the face of free-market exploitation of bodies, this nationalism assumes the worst conservatism: invisibilisation and silence.

Deserting the left

One of the worst consequences of Putin’s expansionism and the invasion of Ukraine has been the radicalisation of misalignments, whether on the left, which has become the black pawn in the chessboard of secondary powers, or those who have come to normalise NATO as a defensive bastion - which it never was.

The position of Bloco de Esquerda on the invasion of Ukraine proves that it is possible - and even essential - to reconcile criticism of imperialism with support for the defensive resistance of the invaded people. Wagenknecht’s party appears to be the ultimate example of the left assuming the role of black pawn. But that’s not the right way to put it: class conciliation, German supremacism and anti-immigrantism, conservative capitulation - all these changes have already pushed Wagenknecht away from the left.

8 November 2024

Translated by International Viewpoint from SolidaritéS.

Footnotes

[1Quotations without reference are taken from Wagenknecht’s interview with New Left Review No 146 (March/April 2024).

 France

The vile beast is not dead!

Statement by the New Anti-Capitalist Party

 (NPA-l’Anticapitaliste)



Tuesday 7 January 2025

The death of Jean-MarieLe Pen, former longtime leader of the French far-right Front National was announced on 7 January 2025. Spontaneous celebrations took place in several cities - for example in Paris, Place de la République.

He’s perhaps the only person we won’t say has "switched his weapon to the left" when he is dead. [1] That would be offensive to us. Even in death, Jean-Marie Le Pen cannot embody anything other than racism, colonialism, anti-Semitism, homophobia and misogyny.

He embodied the French far right for decades: from those nostalgic for the OAS and French Algeria to Nazi and antisemitic ideologues, racism and the most ordinary - and horrifying - machismo.

Our first thoughts are with the direct victims, the Algerians killed and tortured during the war of independence. And the indirect victims, to all those who have had to endure racism, discrimination, injustice and even insults and blows. And there are many of them, his victims, so many that he has helped to banalize racism, putting it back at the heart of the political debate time and time again... right up to his runner-up spot in the 2002 presidential election.

Jean-Marie Le Pen’s death was bound to happen one day. But his ideas are still very much alive. You only have to read Éric Ciotti’s tribute to be convinced of his poisoned legacy: “he was a pioneering whistleblower on mass immigration and its ravages”. Confirmed by Éric Zemmour.

Today, his daughter, almost 15 years after taking over the reins of the party that Le Pen père founded, is on the doorstep of power. The RN had 89 MPs in the National Assembly by 2022, and 130 by 2024. And they make good and bad weather for the governments that yesterday were chased FN and RN votes, from Balladur to Sarkozy, and today vote for laws with them, from Borne to Barnier. And, who knows, Bayrou tomorrow...

The new Prime Minister sees Le Pen as “a figure in French political life”, before adding : “We knew what a fighter he was when we fought him”, while the Élysée hides behind a press release, appealing to the judgment of history.

Our judgement is made. Marine Le Pen has pretended to put aside the antisemitism of her father, who in 1987, in a nod to his Nazi denialist comrades, presented the gas chambers as “a detail in the hisory of the Second World War”, and replaced it with a new Islamophobia, thereby making racism more fashionable. She has made racism acceptable to the bourgeoisie and its political personnel.

Jean-Marie Le Pen is dead, but the foul beast is very much alive. We fought the father and his friends for decades, and we will continue to fight his heirs.

Montreuil, 7 January 2025

Translated by International Viewpoint from l’Anticapitaliste.

P.S.

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Footnotes

[1The French idiomatic phrase for somebody who dies: "passer l’arme à gauche”.